Zaphrriyah was aware of hurtling across the air, the world spinning as her blood gushed out from the stump of her neck. Black spots flashed in her vision. Pain was a feeling no longer. Breaths were a thing of the past. There were hardly any feelings left to hold onto. Consciousness was fleeting fast. She was dying. Her head dropped to the ground and rolled until it finally came to a stop facing up on the very same road so many others had taken. Empty eyes stared up into the darkness of the sky, the light of the opalescent one rapidly fading while the demonic one remained unfazed. Her body dropped raggedly to her knees as spears and swords were pulled out from her.

  Her slayers gathered around her decapitated corpse and slowly lowered their weapons. They murmured amongst themselves, nervously discussing the horror they had just faced.

  "She came from the snow."

  "Half-naked ... the bitch."

  "She ate his fucking heart!"

  "What the fuck was she?"

  "A witch. A bloody fucking witch."

  "We should burn her."

  "Burn the witch!"

  Her executioner sauntered towards his trophy, crouching down and grabbing a fistful of her hair before lifting her head up. As he did, he noticed the long, sticky, strings of blood stretching off from where he had dealt the cut. It was almost liquid, dripping as they stretched, thick and slimy like red honey.

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  "Boo."

  A surge of blood exploded from the countless holes that had stabbed into her body, and her head reeled from out the slayer's hand along the thick, red rope of blood using the force of the pressure exerted, reattaching to her neck with all seven vertebrae stacking back together in place. She slowly climbed up from her knees, dripping with blood that rapidly soaked back into her shawl. Someone nearby tried to stop her, slashing wildly with their sword, but they were stopped with a single hand. She held their blade firm between her fingers as she fully returned to her stance, all the excess blood and wounds now gone from her skin, leaving just the intricately painted runes. The bleeding from her hand coagulated, and she clutched tight, shattering the blade in a burst of blood and steel. Then she grabbed the enemy by their shoulders, crushing their armor and sinking her nails through its cracks, and in a burst of savage strength, tore them apart with her bare hands. As their blood erupted, she opened her mouth, drinking her fill before the veil of blood splattered to the ground along with their dismembered corpse.

  Zaphrriyah grinned, licking her lips as her gaze found her executioner.

  Despair and dismay sunk their clutches into his heart as he gazed back into the eyes of the abyss. He shuddered. He pissed himself. He screamed. He turned tails. He ran. The army quickly dispersed with him, screaming and shouting in panic as they ran for their lives, scrambling into alleys and buildings and locking their doors shut behind them. In the chaos of their flight, Zaphrriyah had her eyes on just one. She sauntered after him, picking up her twin khukuri on her way, stalking him down the road as he stumbled and tripped from the shoving of the crowd. He caught glimpses of her over his back as he ran, and she was always there, closer and closer each time, never in a hurry, that demonic eye burning into whatever soul he had left.

  The road was empty now. He was the last one. A blade struck through his heel, and he stumbled to the ground. Still, he did not give up, determined to get away from this horror even if it meant crawling. Zaphrriyah got closer. Perhaps if he had crawled faster, he might have gotten away. But then he felt her talons around his neck, and he knew it was over. He could only hope for a swifter death, that he wouldn't be dismembered and devoured by this demon. His breaths were ragged, his heart pacing so fast it was beginning to slow as he came to terms with his end. As the cold hands of death settled on his shoulders. Anticipating the moment of his end with every nerve in his body. But it never came. The terrifying sharpness of her talons left his neck. He dared to hope. He dared to open his eyes. He dared to look-

  Her blade flew down upon his neck, a guillotine that severed his head clean off his body.